


Boniface

by tprillahfiction



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Catholic Character, Catholic Guilt, Catholic themes, Character Death, Churches, Halloween, Horror, Insanity, M/M, Modern Era, Monks, Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Content, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Roman Catholicism, Star Trek 2009 - Freeform, Star Trek AU, Star Trek: Into Darkness, canibalism, horror!fic, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4942222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tprillahfiction/pseuds/tprillahfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo and Jim break into an abandoned Catholic church in the middle of night, it becomes more than they bargained for.  </p><p>Horror.  Modern day AU.  Religious themes.<br/>Warning: Character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boniface

**Author's Note:**

> This is rewritten from my original fic: 'Boniface'. I rewrote this to fit the Star Trek fandom. (some of this borrows from another of my Star Trek fic's: 'Sunlight on a Broken Column') 
> 
> This is a modern day AU.

"Look," Jim says as he points. "Over there." The beam of his flashlight illuminates a small structure looming ahead. The structure appears to be abandoned, neglected.

As they get closer, Jim says: "Looks like a church."

They walk through the grass several meters, then through a rusty gate. They pick their way through an old, snarly graveyard overgrown with weeds. Broken gravestones are haphazardly strewn about.

They halt in front an old fashioned, heavy wooden door which sports a brass doorknob and rusted hinges.

Jim shines his flashlight up to the stained glass windows. Or what is left of them. They're shattered. Looks like they have been for awhile.

Leo runs his fingers along the wood, feeling the bumps and ridges. "This looks like it's a Roman Catholic church. Or at least, it was."

"Hmm," Jim grunts.

"Wonder what the name of it is?"

"Who cares?"

Leo gives Jim a dirty look. "I care.  Got to be about a hundred years old, at least."

"Five hundred," Jim says.

"Not that old."

"Nobody loves it anymore." Jim tries the door. It's locked. He bangs on it. A dog barks in the distance. "Anybody home?" he yells out.

"Don't."

"What?"

"Keep your damned voice down. It's after one."

Jim sets down his duffle bag, unzips and riffles through it.

"What are you looking for?" Leo asks.

"This." Jim holds up a small crowbar. "Might be something of value in there. Windows are up too high to crawl through." The tip of the metal sinks into the crack of the door.

"This door is solid and it's locked tight," Leo warns. "You're not getting it open."

"Oh, yes I am." There's a cracking sound. Jim keeps trying, digging the crowbar in further.

Leo grabs Jim's wrist. "Stop."

"Why?"

"Bluebeard."

Jim shines the flashlight directly into Leo's face. "Bluebeard? What about him?"

Leo bats the flashlight away. "Ever heard of the story?"

"No.  You're full of these crazy stories.  Always got something.  Okay, tell me about Bluebeard."  Jim hands the flashlight to Leo and keeps working on the door.

"A nobleman marries a woman. He has to leave the castle for awhile. The new bride has to stay behind. He gives her the keys. Tells her she can open every door but one. Tells his bride don't ever open that door. Don't ever go inside that room, under any circumstances. She vows not to. He goes away and leaves the castle in her care. Of course, curiosity overtakes her. She enters the room and discovers the room's horrible secret. The floor is awash in blood. The murdered bodies of her husband's former wives hang from hooks--"

"Fuck," Jim drops the crowbar.  

"What's the matter?"

"Fucking thing won't open."

"That's a sign, leave this place alone."

"Fuck that."  Jim digs into his bag, pulls out a can of spray paint. He shakes it up.

"What are you gonna do?"

"Tag the fucking door."

"Don't. Will you let me finish my story?"

Jim finally lowers the can.  "There's more?"

"Yeah.  So anyway...She's horrified, she drops the key in the blood. She picks up the key and flees the room but the blood won't wash off. She reveals the secret to her sister and both of them plan to flee the castle the next day. Bluebeard comes home unexpectedly. He notices the blood on the key and realizes his new bride has broken her vow. He wants to kill her immediately, but she begs for half an hour to say her prayers--"

"Bones, what's this stupid story got to do with anything?"

"I dunno, nothing.  Forget I said anything."

"Already forgot."  Jim sets down the can. Picks up the crowbar. digs it into the door jam once again, trying to pry it open.

"Don't open that door," Leo insists.   "We don't know what's behind it. We could be going into a trap."

"In an abandoned Catholic church? There's no trap, don't be ridiculous. I know what's behind this door. Stuff to rip off. Nobody's been in here for years. Relax."

With a loud clank the metal crowbar splits in half. "Shit." Jim throws the pieces onto the ground.  "Hey, it got me.  Look."  He holds up his bloody palms. "Ow. Fuck."  

"Nice job, Jim.  Here.  Let--"

Jim pulls his hands away.  "I'm fine, leave me alone." He wipes them on a towel. "See? Bleeding's stopped already." He shoves the towel back into his bag.

"Just trying to help.  At any rate, it looks like the door won. Let's get out of here."

"Yeah, I think you may be right." Jim grabs the flashlight out of Leo's hands. He kneels down to gather up his bag but pauses. "Wait. Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Organ music." Jim stands up and cocks his head to listen. "Sounds like a pipe organ."

"From where? Inside?" Leo leans over and puts his ear against the door. It's completely silent. "I don't hear anything. You're bullshitting me."

"No, I'm serious. Somebody's playing the organ in there."

"All the better for us to leave." Leo turns to go. Jim doesn't follow. "Jim."

"The music. It's getting louder."

"I still don't hear anything."

"Listen."

Leo puts his ear against the door again, hearing absolutely nothing and waiting for Jim to say, 'I'm just fucking with you' but he never does.

"You don't hear that?" Jim asks.

"No, I don't."

Jim grabs the door handle. It turns without resistance.

"Jim."

Jim ignores him.

"Jim, don't open it."

The door creaks as it opens right up. Jim scoops up his stuff.

"Let's get out of here," Leo tells him. "We're breaking and entering."

"The music's stopped." 

"I never heard it in the first place. You must have been imagining things. Let's go, Jim."

"We'll just take a quick peek inside. Then we'll go."

They stand at the open doorway, gazing inside. The interior is what appears to be a Medieval style Catholic prayer chapel. Completely intact. Undefiled. Undisturbed. There's twenty wooden pews, grouped in ten on either side of an aisle made up of black and white floor tiles. There's a wooden altar situated in the very front, topped by a delicate lace table runner. The sides of the altar are covered with hundreds of flickering white candles. There's a high buttressed wooden ceiling.

They look over and notice the stunningly beautiful, multi-colored stained glass windows lining the brick walls.

"Jim," Leo says.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"The windows were broken. Weren't they? Outside. They're not broken inside."

"We must have been seein' things in the dark."

Behind the altar is a huge wooden crucifix, complete with Jesus nailed to the cross, wearing a crown of thorns, looking very lifelike. The thorns are stuck deep into the forehead. Blood seems to ooze from the nails and the crown. The mouth is contorted into agony. The thin hips are covered with a bloody loincloth.

"Holy Hell," Leonard breathes out at the sight.

Jim walks through the threshold, inching his way inside. He drops his bag, then his flashlight, then his can of spray paint. It clatters onto the tile floor, then rolls away, underneath a pew, out of sight.

"Jim wait. I don't think we should go in."

"Stop being such a pussy," Jim calls back to him. "Come on. Shut the door behind you."

"I don't think that's a good--"

"Shut the door, Bones."

"Jim, I don't-"

"Shut the goddamned door!"

Leo jumps inside, pulling the door closed behind him. It slams shut. Closing them inside. Why he always lets Jim boss him around, he doesn't know. Jim's already up at that altar, next to the grotesque crucifix. Leo half walks, half creeps down the black and white tiles. His footsteps loud in the quiet.

That crucifix is huge," Jim whispers. "Looks like a real dead body. Just killed yesterday. Gives me the creeps."

"Wax," Leo tells him. "If it was a real, fresh dead body hanging from that cross, it would be stinking up the place."

Jim chuckles.  "You'd know, wouldn't you."

Leonard selects the first right hand pew and slumps down onto the freshly cleaned wood. He can smell the Murphy's Oil Soap. He fingers the hymnal laying nearby. So much for this being an abandoned church. He watches as Jim wanders around, looking for objects to stuff into his bag.

"You see a pipe organ anywhere, Bones?"

"Huh?" Leo glances around. "No I don't."

"Wonder why I heard music?"

"All that weed, fucking with your brain," Leo replies.

Jim spots a golden chalice, festooned with what looks to be rubies, sitting on the altar. "Ah hah."

"Don't Jim. Don't take that."

Jim picks it up. "Might fetch a few bucks on ebay or craigslist."

"Don't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong. Look, we've seen enough. Can we get out of here, please?"

Jim shrugs, sets the chalice down. He turns around and stares at the stained glass. "What a cute little lamb."

Leo follows his gaze. "The cute little lamb is being devoured by a lion. Look at the blood on the blades of grass." The death scene is gruesomely depicted in several different windows.  The lion has only eaten part of the body. The lamb's body-less head is depicted in the bottom panel.

Jim finally comes to sit on the bench, next to Leo. "I was gonna tear this shit up. Now I don't want to. This place is beautiful."

"I'm glad you think so."

It is breathtakingly beautiful, if not macabre.

After a few moments, Jim glances over at the left side of the chapel. "Hey look, another room." He jumps up to investigate.

"No, no, no," Leo calls out after him. "It's only a confessional."

Jim opens up the small door, takes a peek inside. "It's a closet, with a cushion on the floor."

"The cushion is for kneeling on," Leo tells him.

"People sit in there and do what? Jack off?" Jim replies.

"Confess their sins, to the priest."

"In here? Two people can't fit in there."

"The priest is in an adjacent closet. There should be a sliding panel inside. That's where you talk through."

"Oh, I see it. Huh."

"You haven't heard much about Roman Catholic religious practices, have you," Leo says.

"I don't pay much attention to organized religion. They're all cults anyway." Jim closes the door.

"You should go back in there," Leo tells him with a smirk. "Confess your sins."

"To who?"

"God."

"There is no God, Bones." Jim comes back over to the bench, plunks down next to Leonard.

"I remember once when I was little," Leo says. "First time I ever stepped foot in a Catholic Church was back home in Conyers. My mom decided we all needed to start going to mass. On the wall behind the altar, there was a huge, life sized crucifix much like this one. It was the worst thing I'd ever seen in my life, up until that point. Blood running down from poor Jesus' wounds. And Jesus was crying blood. Red blood coming from the tear ducts. I was traumatized. Had nightmares for weeks after that. I'd close my eyes and see the red blood, oh my God, the red--"

Jim laughs.

"It isn't funny."

"You're always full of these goddamned stories. No such thing as Jesus, Bones. All of this is crap. Like a stage, theatre, make-believe."

Leo looks up at that hideous crucifix. There's red coming out of the tear ducts. Can't be. Can't be crying red. Only a wax statue. Wax statues don't cry. Wax statues don't cry blood.  He should know better than to think so.

"Bones." Leo feels a hard punch against his arm.

"What?"

"What are you muttering? Can't understand you."

"Nothing." Leo stands up.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Up there. I want to get a better look at that crucifix."

"Why? You want to see if it's really a dead body?"

Leo picks carefully past the hundreds of lit candles, then slides his body behind the altar. "Maybe."

He faces the crucifix.  Damned thing looks even larger now. The body hanging there is the same size as his own. And it is crying blood. Red flows out of the tear ducts and it's the same color liquid flowing out of the nail wounds. There's the inscription overhead: "INRI" or as they used to say as kids: 'Iron Nails Rammed In'.

He's heard of this happening before, folks claiming that a statue of Jesus or Mary cries.  But there's no way that can be possible.  He should know better.  Now.

A miracle they say. It doesn't seem to be a miracle. A miracle is saving his dad from dying. That's a miracle that didn't occur, but should have. This statue is only crying blood. It ain't blood. Probably rusty water. Don't they usually cry tears, not blood? Big fucking deal. Rusty water from a pipe overhead. That's all it is. Sure does look real, though. He reaches out and touches a foot.

"Well?"

"Wax." Leo knocks on a thigh for effect.  Making a thud as he does so.  

"I was kinda hoping it would be a dead body hanging up there," Jim replies.

Leo spins around.  Fixes Jim with a glare.  "Why?  Because Catholics are cannibals?"

Jim jerks back in his seat. "Woah! Where'd you get that from? I never said Catholics are cannibals!  What the hell, Bones?"

"Yes you did. The other day.  You said they were.  Remember?" Leo places both hands flat on the altar, feeling the lace under his palms. He closes his eyes for a long second, before opening them again. "Well. If you want me to be honest, we sort of are."

Jim's eyes widen at that. "Are what?"

"Cannibals."

Jim chuckles. "You are not. You're full of shit."

"No," Leo says with a grin. "Not at all. You see it's like this." He drops his smile as he reaches over and picks the golden chalice. It's heavy, full of liquid, smells like sherry. Just like the old days. "You start out with ordinary wine, and then you say 'this is my blood'. And then, lo and behold, it is."

"You can't turn wine into blood just by you saying that."

"Oh, yes I can."

"Stop fucking around. You're trying to scare me, get me to leave here. Aren't you. It ain't working."

Leo holds up the chalice in both hands. "She begs for half an hour to say her prayers."

Jim chuckles at that. "Was Bluebeard's room really covered in blood?"

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

Jim stands up from the bench, spins around at the noise. "What the fuck?"

There's a toy monkey about a foot high, standing on the black and white tiles, in the aisle between the pews. The monkey bashes together a set of shiny brass cymbals.

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

"Where the fuck did that thing come from?" Jim hisses.

Leo lowers the chalice. He can't take communion yet. Hasn't been to confession. Can't take communion with a nasty black mark on his soul. "I don't know," he murmurs. "Must be a miracle."

Jim rushes out of the pew, lunges towards the toy. He kneels down on the tile floor and stares at it. "What the fuck?!"

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

Jim crawls over.  He lays down, flat onto his stomach.  Watching.  His head lolls to one side.  He is completely entranced by the monkey.

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

The monkey stops.

"I want to make it go again. How do I make it go again?" Jim whines like a child.

"Easy," Leo tells him. "There's a key stuck in its back. Wind it up."

Jim does exactly that. "I still can't figure out how this monkey got here."

"The monkey came from my back," Leo mutters.

Jim doesn't hear him, too busy winding up the toy.

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

Jim cackles with glee. "More!" he demands.

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang. ___

_Clang._

The monkey stops. Jim winds it up again.

"Leonard." A woman's voice emanates from the left of the altar.

Leo looks. There's a statue of Mother Mary nestled between two flickering candles. She's staring right into his eyes. She's standing on a globe, the serpent of the garden at her feet. It tries desperately to bite her but it can't. It's no match for her. "Leonard," Mary says.

"Yes, Mother?" Leo replies.

"Do you want to be a good boy?"

"Yes," Leo says. "I do want to be a good boy, Mother."

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

"Do you want to take communion, like a good boy?" Mother Mary says.

"Yes." Leo glances over at the chalice, then at Jim, then back to Mary. "I want to. Very much so."

"Confess your sins. All of them.  Erase the black mark on your soul.  Only then can you take communion, Leonard."

"But there's too many sins. I've been so bad," Leo protests. "For many years, I've been bad.  Please, Mother Mary. Don't make me go to confession. Please. Don't make me go!"

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

"Don't make me go, Mother Mary. Don't make me go." Leo covers his face with his hands. He weeps.

"You must, Leonard. Go to confession. Confess. Be a good boy. You want to be a good boy."

He's thirty-three now, been lots of sinning since he was twenty one, ever since he left the priory. Ever since he entered med school.  The confession is gonna take forever. But, Mother Mary is right. If he wants to take communion, he must confess all of his sins. Every last one of them.

He sets the chalice down on the altar, very delicately. He turns back and faces the crucifix. He reaches out again, runs two fingers along the emaciated, wax torso. Feels the ribs.  Poor Jesus.

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

Leo spins around. Jim's still on the floor, watching the monkey.

Leo shrugs and walks around the altar, making his way to the confessional. He opens up the door, goes inside, shutting it behind him.

It's tight in here, a closet, just like Jim had described, or maybe a coffin. Enough room to fit one desperate man and nothing else. He's in complete blackness. He can't see his hands in front of him.

Light switch. Where's the light switch. He feels along the four wooden, splintery walls. Nothing. He feels for the door handle from the direction he'd just come from. Nothing. The handle was just there a minute ago. Can't find it now. He's trapped. His heart races. Where's the light switch? Where's the door handle? Where is it, where is it? Where IS IT? He's frantic now. WHERE IS IT? WHERE IS IT? WHERE IS IT? WHERE IS IT?

Oh my God...the walls...they're closing in. They're closing in. They're gonna crush me to death...the walls are gonna kill me...and I deserve this all of this... but I haven't confessed my sins... I can't die with the black mark...the black X on my soul.

He hears a noise: A grating, dragging. Like something sliding along a track. Somebody's in the confessional next to him. The priest's box. He spies a figure along with a dim stream of light emanating from the wooden latticed partition.

"Are you alright, my child?" a voice says. There's a bony hand, resting near the lattice.

"I can't find the light," Leo whispers.

"I will help you find the light, my son."

"Yes, Father."

"There's a chain, above you, my son. Pull on it."

His hands scrabble overhead, feeling for something. Anything. The back of his hand hits cold metal. He tugs on it. With a click, blessed illumination, via a single dim lightbulb. The most gorgeous thing he's ever seen in his life. Thank God. He sinks to his knees. He breathes out in relief, wiping the sweat from his brow.

After a moment, he brings his hands together in prayer. He lets out a soft giggle. Hasn't done this in years.

Twelve years of Catholic school. Then three as a novice monk and one of seminary so that he could say the mass. He looked so angelic, so holy in that black soutane of his, crazy haircut, black sandals, his mother had said so when he'd taken his final vows: Obedience, poverty, chastity. It was the last time he was able to have contact with his family as a monk. Last time he'd seen dad alive.  He'd taken the name that all brother's take, different to the one he'd been born with. His had been 'Boniface'. So long ago.

Things were fine, he'd settled very nicely into religious life: the silence, the waking up at 4am every morning for prayer. Compline. Priory life was the simple way of life. But one day, he'd somehow gotten word that Dad had died. Nothing could save Dad. Dad was already buried. His mother had called the priory, several months ago, before, when Dad had taken ill.

'Why didn't you tell me sooner?' he'd asked the prior. Brother Alphonsus. 'I could have prayed for him. Prayed for my dad.'

'I am sorry, Brother Boniface. Say three Hail Mary's for your father's soul.'

'But if I could have prayed for him sooner. Prayed for a miracle. It might have saved Dad's life.'

The next day he walked out the priory. An ex-monk.  

They all were disgusted with him.  The prior dropped him off at the train station without a word.  He came back to Conyers, a failure. With nothing but one hundred bucks, an old shirt, sweater, a pair of jeans that were too big for him, pair of old shoes, holy socks. The prior had warned him, crooked an elderly, angry finger. 'You may walk out on us, but you can never leave'.

Within days he'd broken one of his vows, in Atlanta, with a stranger in a bar in a bathroom. Let that guy fuck him in the ass and it felt so good.

Then he didn't know what to do with his life, but his high school grades had been perfect.  Good enough to get into medical school.  He had the aptitude.  Made it through easily.  It was like he had been meant for med school.  Maybe if he'd been a doctor at the time, instead of a monk when his dad had been dying, he could have saved him.    

Then he was working in the hospital and met Jim, an orderly there. Soon they were spending all their time together.  He let Jim fuck him every chance they got.  And it felt good.  Liked it when Jim fucked him hard in dirty places.  Bar restrooms. In a field.  Against a brick wall, in the street.  Anybody could walk by and see.  Since he felt so dirty inside, he wanted his behavior to match it.    

As the years went by he no longer believed. Boniface was long dead.

Or that should have been the case.  That priory had that same goddamned black and white tile floor as this chapel.  It's taking him back.  Way back.

Leo makes the sign of the cross. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been twelve years since my last confession."

The priest in the black cossack, behind the lattice, holds up an equally black rosary. There's tapping. Those rosary beads. He remembers them very well.

Leo confesses everything. Everything he's done. All of his sinning. All the times Jim shoved his cock up his ass and he liked it. Didn't care if the church thought being gay was wrong. He loved it. Didn't want to stop. He couldn't change. It was him. Who he was. But he confesses it anyway.

"Go in peace, my son. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost."

"Amen," Leo says. He exits the confessional. He does feel at peace. At least that black mark is gone from his soul.

As he walks out he hears a dripping noise. He holds up his hand. There's a hole. Blood is oozing out of the wound. He holds up the other hand. Same thing.

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

Jim's still lying on the black and white floor, on his side. Watching the monkey. When the monkey stops, Jim immediately winds it up again.

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

"Welcome back, Brother Boniface," Mother Mary says. 

"Thank you, Mother," he replies. "It is good to be back."

He watches Jim a moment before making his way back to the altar. He feels so free. So sinless. So good. Finally. All those sins will be gone. The years of feeling guilt from leaving the priory absolved. His soul is completely clean. No more black mark. No more X. But, first he has to pay restitution. Before the communion. Before he's allowed to eat the body and the blood. He must be willing to pay for those sins. He kneels down in front of Mary. Time for the prayer of death.

"Hail Mary," he says, "full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women. Holy Mary Mother of God, pay for us sinners, now and at the hour of death. Amen."

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

He stands up, glances over at Jim. Jim's winding up the monkey. He loves Jim, but it isn't enough.  

He kneels again. Makes the sign of the cross.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women. Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of death. Amen."

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

He stands up and looks over at Jim. Jim turns the key, winding up the monkey yet again.

He kneels again for a third time. (Jesus fell a third time when he carried his cross to be crucified. On the third day he rose again.)

He makes the sign of the cross. "In the name of the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women. Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen."

Finally, that's all taken care of.

Now for communion. The miracle.

At the altar he reaches to the left of him. Gets out the brass plate. Gets out the golden knife. Gets the golden chalice all ready. He picks up The Holy Eucharist. He speaks in persona christi (like so long ago): "He broke the bread and gave it to his disciples and said, take this all of you and eat of it, for this is my body, which will be given up for you."

He genuflects in adoration. He says: "He poured the wine and gave it to his disciples and said, take this all of you and drink it, for this is my blood, which will be given up for you."

He holds up the chalice, then places it down on the altar. He genuflects again in adoration.

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

Jim winds up the monkey.

Boniface sings: "Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the holy spirit, all glory and honor is yours, almighty Father, for ever and ever. Amen."

The pipe organ plays, very softly at first, then louder and still louder. He knows that song all too well: 'Holy, Holy, Holy, Holy Lord, God of Hosts'.

Then the music stops.

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

_Clang. Clang._

The monkey halts.

Jim's laying on his side. On the black and white tiles. In the fetal position. But Jim doesn't wind up the monkey. Not anymore. He can't.

Jim's severed head rests on the communion plate.

There's a pool of blood forming underneath Jim's headless body on the floor.

Boniface picks up the bloody knife again.  He slices a piece off of Jim.  Sets a piece on the golden plate. Puts down the knife. He holds up the host so the congregation can view it. "Take this all of you and eat it.  Do this in memory of me."  

Jim's blood streams from the neck stump, onto the altar.  Boniface holds the cup under the neck, fills it up to the brim with blood. He holds up the chalice to the congregation.  "Take this all of you and drink from it.  Do this in memory of me."  

You can walk away, but you can never leave.

"Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed."

Boniface partakes of Jim's body and blood and it is good. 

He closes his eyes.

He opens them to see the chapel full of people. Light streams in from the stained glassed windows, leaving colorful pictures on the freshly scrubbed black and white tile floor. Everything is pristine. It's so beautiful.

He feels agonizing pain in his wrists and feet and realizes that he's hanging from the wall, behind the altar, behind the priest. Wood splinters dig into his back. He's clad in only a loin cloth. A crown of thorns pricks his head. He feels blood dripping from the wounds.

The priest says to the assembled: "Welcome to St. Boniface. The processional music today is on page 313. Please rise for the opening song."

There's a little boy in the front row, staring into his eyes in horror. He tries to move his wrists. The thorns on his head dig into his skull. Oh, how it hurts.

"Mommy!" the boy says.

"Shhh."

"Mommy!" the little boy says. "Jesus is crying. He's crying red. Why is Jesus crying blood, Mommy?  Why is he crying, mommy?"

"Hush, honey."

"He's crying.  Jesus is crying.  Blood, mommy."

"Hush.  The service is starting, Lenny."

The congregation stands and begins to sing: " _Ave Maria, gratia plena, Maria, gratia plena, Maria gratia plena, Ave dominus, dominus tecum...._ "

_________________

the end.


End file.
